


solid ground illusions (perfectly normal solutions)

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blood, Knifeplay, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tyler can’t promise him that, not really. not when all he wants to do is tear him apart, bury his face is his pudgy, cut-open abdomen and lick the trails of blood off his thighs. but he nods, face pressed against his shoulder while murmuring that’s alright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

cleaning up, oddly enough, is his favorite bit.

it’s when he can truly sit back and admire his work. he always makes he sure he has enough time so he doesn’t have to rush through it, so he can fully enjoy the sight before him.

she was pretty, he has to admit. all dolled up in her raspberry dress and black louboutin high heels, nude lipstick and subtle makeup complementing her perfectly, so much that he couldn’t resist delicately tracing her features, slipping one finger between her lips once he reached her mouth. she was still alive and kicking then, eyes wide open and fearful as she fought the restraints keeping her in place, biting his index with as much strength as she could muster. to her horror, he only smiled, slipping in his middle finger too once her jaw slackened in shock. he figures the last thing she heard before losing consciousness was him telling her to be good. it makes his chest swell with something akin to pride every time he remembers.

the corner of his lips quirk up as he thinks about it while scrubbing his hands clean with an old wet cleaning rag. she’s already in bags, the empty warehouse squeaky clean and he has a change of clothes folded up by his side. he just needs to get the last of the blood from under his fingernails. (he usually uses gloves, but sometimes he just can’t resist, okay? if she had a lovely face, you could only imagine what her insides looked like, screaming to be squished and pulled and messed around with barehanded. he’s only a man).

the only time he stops thinking about her pretty face and even prettier guts is when he’s nearing his house, with clean nails and bags gotten rid of. an smile unconsciously makes its way on his face as he thinks about _him_ , probably just getting home from work, and can’t seem to get rid of it, not even when he pushes open the door to find him home already, standing in the middle of the living room while untying his tie, leaning against the wall with eyes barely open.

“long day, j?” he smiles sympathetically as he walks towards him, and pulls josh to his chest once he weakly nods.

he practically melts against him, nuzzling his face where his neck meets his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle, tyler walking backwards until the back of his calves meet the couch and lets himself fall down on it, taking josh with him.

“it’s just--i know i say i’m not squeamish or anything, but this case is just,” josh sighs, and tyler rubs his back as he feels him screw his face up and tighten his hold on him. “i don’t know if i can solve this one. this fucker’s crazy. he--he _gouged_ her eyes out and sewed her mouth shut, who _does_ that?”

tyler remembers her. her eyes were the deepest blue he’d ever seen, screaming at him to be teared apart like the pretty girl’s guts hours ago. of course he complied to their silent plea.

josh deflates, letting out all the air in his lungs through his mouth in an attempt to keep it together.

“sorry, i’m sorry, ty. i know i said i wouldn’t bring work home--” he’s sushed and pulled closer to his boyfriend, and he can’t help but shudder a little as he recalls the pictures he was made see all day. why this case, out of all of them? why did he always have to take the merciless, cold-blooded ones?

“it’s okay, baby. how about you lie down while i make dinner?”

it’s silent for a moment, and then josh props his chin up on his chest while his lips slightly tug up.

“mac and cheese?” he asks quietly, eyes crinkling up as his smile widens, and tyler’s not quite sure how long he’ll manage to keep himself from complying to josh’s unknown requests (his pretty, pretty eyes and surely even prettier guts) and splitting him open. his darling would look lovely with empty eye sockets. maybe his eyelids sewn shut, too. god, he won’t hold off for long if he keeps thinking this way.

“sure. whatever you want, love.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tyler blinks slowly, and he’s not sure how he’s managed to keep himself from sinking sharp teeth on his darling’s freckled skin so far. he swallows and asks, because he has to, because he actually cares, “you sure?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope s’not too bad

they’re both still panting, lying naked on the living room floor, back to chest, and tyler hasn’t pulled out yet. he’s breathing in deeply as he noses the back of josh’s neck, rolling his hips lazily just to hear him whine from overstimulation. the only sounds they can hear is the tv’s low volume and their cat meowing from somewhere in the house, and it’s josh’s voice, muffled by the carpet, that disrupts the quiet atmosphere.

“did you actually like, say something about wanting to cut me open?”

tyler hums as he remembers that slipping. he talks a lot during sex, sometimes so much he doesn't quite keep up with what his lips are spilling, so it’s likely he said something about his guts looking pretty or wanting to make him bleed. and the only way he can explain that is by saying,

“‘s a kink, babe. i like gore ‘n stuff,” he presses a kiss to the baby curls on the nape of his neck as he pulls out, rolling over to lie next to josh, who's still on his front. “but i know you don’t, though, so it’s okay. sorry ‘bout that.”

it wasn’t, really. he has to run his fingers through his own hair to stop them from twitching, from reaching out and digging on pale flesh, scratching until all he can see is red. because josh doesn’t like that, and if there’s one person whose desires he actually cares about, it’s him. so he tugs on brunette strands and settles for tracing the outline of his boyfriend’s spine. a moment later, though, he hears him sigh and turn his head to him, with an expression he can’t quite read.

“we could do that, if you want. we could try it out.”

tyler blinks slowly, and he’s not sure how he’s managed to keep himself from sinking sharp teeth on his darling’s freckled skin so far. he swallows and asks, because he _has_ to, because he actually _cares,_  “you sure?”

josh’s eyes flicker across the room until they settle on tyler’s, whose hand abandoned his back to caress his cheekbone, silently letting him know it was fine (it wasn’t, it really wasn’t).

“yeah, i mean--yes, i trust you. just--nothing too deep. at least for the first time?” his voice’s an octave higher towards the end, and tyler can’t promise him that, not really. not when all he wants to do is tear him apart, bury his face is his pudgy, cut-open abdomen and lick the trails of blood off his thighs. but he nods, face pressed against his shoulder while murmuring that’s alright, and that’s how they end up a few nights later with josh on his back on the bed, boxers low on his hips and a knife pressed against his stomach. tyler’s not even hard, because his heart’s racing and he has to count backwards from fifty mississippi not to plunge the knife into him and this was a bad, bad idea.

but he breathes in and presses the blade gently against josh’s lips, asking him to repeat the safeword back to him and looking pleased as he mutters a faint “red”, tracing his jaw with the heel of the knife, leaving no marks behind. not just yet.

he traces his collarbones and each rib, taking his time while josh breathed in sharply and whimpered, imagining just how good he’d look with his chest split in two and--

“good?” he asks, because he has to and he cares, and the way he moans and bunches up the sheets on his fists when he presses just a bit harder between two of his ribs is answer enough.

and when he finally trails down his happy trail, blood beginning to drip and reaching his waistband, is when he skips a few mississippis and leans down to lick it off, biting down next to the cut just hard enough for it to not be pleasurable. resting his cheek against his cut up stomach, he twirls the point of the blade right over his belly button, too entranced on the sight before him to hear what josh is saying.

“red, ty, red.”

he looks so, so good. if he just pressed down the knife with a bit more force, if he sank his teeth and bit hard enough to break skin, he’d look even better. he has to, he _needs_ to, needs to gouge his eyes out just like he had thought, needs bite and twist and pull and god, the noises he would make, he has to--

“red. red, tyler, p-please.”

there’s hands pulling at his shoulders and josh is scrambling away from him, tyler’s face falling off his belly and landing on the soft sheets, sitting up as josh’s back hits the headboard. he crawls on all fours towards him and cradles his face on his hands.

“sorry, j. shit, i’m so sorry, i got carried away, baby, i didn’t hear you. ‘m sorry.”

it’s a few moments of silence before josh turns his face to press a kiss against his palm, “it’s okay, ty. you weren’t even _doing_ anything, i just--”

but tyler doesn’t let him excuse him, shaking his head as he gets up. “no, i should’ve stopped, baby,” he sighs, because he has to and he cares and he _should_ have, he really should have. “i’ll bring the kit and clean you up, okay?”

and once he reaches the bathroom and locks the door behind himself, resting his forehead against the wood with closed eyes, he remembers what a bad, bad idea this was.


End file.
